Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions-Chapter 286: Seely [II]—The Flower Faerie

THERE WAS NO VISIBLE SUN in this realm, Israfel noticed. The light rather came from everything all around. The plants. The mists. The surreal nature.

From the second his boots touched the damp soil, dark brown with woodsy scent and humus, he felt suddenly light. It was a kinda high—very similar to that one time he had let an Empath put her fingers through his brain. The [Artemis Touch], they called it. More like a full cup dose of Ayahuasca. Rafel did not think he’d ever feel wound up by a girl—until he had her fingers literally curling inside of his skull.

"This is a dreamlike world." He touched a gold-leaf plant.

The flower petals shrank at the pass of his thumb.

The gold in the flower vanished like that, snap! and only a dull grey remained. "The plants are alive. It senses my demonic bloodline." Rafel concluded. It was pretty easy for him to make this out, because the next plant he touched – a [Violet], pretty much screamed back out at him.

"Great!" he sighed. "The flowers fucking talk. Can this place get any weirder?"

Seeing no one around, Rafel started walking.

Stay tuned for updates on novelbuddy

He found more strange plants. Moonflowers that gave off bioluminescence like a jellyfish. Red roses with changing colors. All the trees in this hypnotic realm did not seem straight; any how he bent his head to view them, they always appeared to curve. To lean. On what exactly, he’d no idea. He came by a lake with purplish water. One of the frogs stared at him. "Hello, stranger." He heard this silky voice in his head. It was not Peitho’s. And it was certainly not his.

He looked at the frog again. ’Is that fucking frog a telepath? And is that mascara on its damn eyes?’

Rafel hurried away from the lake.

He knew some of his cousins that did frogs. But not him. [Dragon girls], [cat girls], kitsune, [bunny girls], big-chested orc women; those were more his thing.

He’d walked less than twenty feet from the weird lake and its horny, mind-communicant frogs when he spotted a cluster of [Songspire] trees.

A cluster!

These epic trees only grew in the deep Mountains of Sorcese, the primeval Skoatl lands. And never in a cluster. [Songspire] drew on mana, not water, for germination and growth. Hence, they only grew in places with great magic. The tribes of Sorcese were devout worshippers of the Old gods, thus, Phorcys, Tefnut, and Chenöwét blessed their lands with a yield of mana fresher and more buoyant than any region of the Continent.

But wait—

Rafel paused. He put the pieces together aloud: "a haven of ancient magical trees, glowing rivers and telepathic frogs, talking flowers; a perpetual sleepy atmosphere?" He looked up, "no sun in sight, but bright everywhere. A realm that produces its own light. Creatures beautiful and weird?" It hit him like a pail of cold water: "THIS IS THE SEELY REALM! The city of sprites!"

He flicked a small rock floating through the air, and watched a full boulder careen over his head—like a small planet. It had indescribable rainbow flowers sprouting from it. The shadow of the flying boulder briefly obscured his gold eyes as he reasoned out how this could be.

"I: a demon princeling, in the Eden of luminaries?"

He laughed. "How is this possible? The faeries will rather accept a troll than a devil. Our darkness is their poison." As if to buttress his point, Rafel put his hand on one of the [Songspire] trees. Just one finger. And the inner white glow of the tree began dimming. The fresh bark started to wither.

It grossly reminded Rafel of his days in Séltand, when he’d visited with the Supreme Mother Indira of the Vestals and had touched [Central Core]; how the light in that big, stupid orb had diminished like a motherfucker. As if he needed to be reminded of what or whom he was. His fucking shadow always had horns.

Rafel pulled his hand from the [Songspire]. And its glow returned.

"Darned fairies!" Rafel was tempted to punch the tree. "If you don’t want me in your realm, then why did you bring me in here?!"

He yelled this out to no one in particular. No one in sight, but the tall fucking [Songspire] cluster. "Like I’m fucking Jack and the Beanstalk!"

Rafel remembered he had a major, evolved [S.I.N] System and called to her: "Peitho, STATUS!"

[DING!]

Her lush voice came right after the bloop.

[My Lord host, I don’t think there’s anything new to add to the info I’ve screened in your mind. You’ve pretty much figured out where you are.]

[However, I am capable to equipping two arsenals, LEGENDARY Rank, that will send you back to the grounds of Eragonn from which you were taken.]

[Listing them now...]

[THE EMBALMER: this equipment grants you the Saint Tomasina envelope, to leap between realms and dimensions.]

[Consumption:

INFLUENCE - minus 250.

ARCANE RUNE - 105 souls.]

[THE DREAMTHIEF HELM: this equipment grants. . .]

[I’m sorry, Lord host. But I am now getting a new heat signature in your current position.]

Peitho interrupted her listing to tell Rafel this. She went on:

[This interference is not flora. And distinctly not mortal. I detect a wight, of potent [Etheria] mana. Perhaps a—]

Peitho couldn’t finish. Rafel couldn’t listen to the end of what she was about to say because the low music that had being humming for minutes now in the dreamy woods abruptly picked up. So did the wind.

Out of the bluish mists stepped a faerie.

A real one.

She had on a cloth of flowers. And it damned fresh. Plucked right off the stalk. She stood in red and white; her turquoise eyes seeing far. A brilliance of the pulsing [Etheria] inside of her shining outward, streaking her skin like beams. Like she had the sun inside of her.

A small star rested in the center of her chest, just above the dip into her cleavage. Her dress of flora didn’t leave much to the imagination. The faerie was not white. In fact, no human complexion. She was rather the lightest purple. Her flesh, lilac to the eyes. Rafel was pretty sure if the wind so much as parted three petals on her dress, he’d catch a NIP SLIP.

’How wonderful!’

This he prayed for. Faeries made gypsy communes look like bad naturists. Nudity levels could not be over-stated.

The faerie came out clearer from the mist; Rafel wasn’t sure if she was walking or just floating. She held her head high, aware of her stunning beauty and curves to reckon with. Not stupendous. Not Persian. But hot. The comely kind of sexuality.

She stopped before the cluster of [Songspire] and began conversation with Rafel in words that made him ponder how long she’d been standing there.

"We didn’t bring you in here. You stepped into one of our rings."

There was no hello. No Hi. But Rafel could get on with that. He quizzed her right back.

"Rings?"

"A [Wreath Circle]. I believe you call them portals."

"Your portals are some fucking flowers, like sneaky little traps on the ground?" Rafel didn’t like the idea of walking into a faerie snare. In his defense, he had been more than riled up at his meeting with Lilith. Still, the faerie went on.

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

"Yes, demon. And you cuss too much."

"I believe the explanation for that is in your first sentence, SPRITE. For the record, I don’t wanna be here either. I’m not in a good mood, so you better go get one of your damn fucking rings right now."

The sprite ignored him. She sidestepped to admire his strong look. "You are quite fetching, devil. Your kind are not known for their beauty."

"Ohh! I bet your kind are. Faeries are known for nothing else but beauty. How vainglorious. And how would you know who I am. You might know my kind, but you don’t know me."

Her light green eyes stroked his sculpted back. "Oh, I know exactly who you are, son of Lilith. You are Israfel Blüdthïrste, only surviving descendant of the mightiest Hel bloodline: the [Luciferan] family tree. I also know you just ascended into [Rank S] by victory in the War of Three Cities. Not only I know this. But this entire realm. You see, this world and everything in it is connected. Our food. Our plants. Our light. We share information as a [hive mind]. So in this moment, Apollyon, every one and every thing SEELY knows you’re here—and that I’m with you. So you’d better cull the murder I see in your eyes."

"Right." Rafel cut with a straight face. "So can I go now?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know who I am?"

"Not really?"

The faerie smiled. "It’s cute you thought that was a question. You are a stranger here; a trespasser. You must see our Elder. Come with me, ginger devil."

Without waiting for him to follow, the busty sprite turned and started away from the high-reaching cluster of luminous [Songspire].

[Ding!]

[Hmm. That’s a first.] Peitho told Rafel in a place of his mind no breezy effing fairie could listen in.

Rafel soon discovered they were retracing his steps, until they were by the blue lake. The stream looked like a gigantic, spooky mirror; giving off smoky tint and vapors like the evil witch stepmother of a fairy-tale pincess used it for her sorcery. The faerie girl walked right into it. And so when she called into the supernatural waters, "Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Who’s the fairest of them all?", Rafel was only ten percent surprised.

The fairest of them all?

Like what the fuck!

The lake surface shimmered as she treaded in. He had no doubt she was an expert swimmer; he already envisioned her svelte body stroking the lit, churning waves. And as if the river heard her ask that uncanny question, it burned bright Burberry, spilling the banks with light like a stage.

The further she stepped into the pool, the more the river glowed.

The faerie turned back to regard him slyly.

She knew what he was thinking, and told him, "it’s a password. You coming?"

In the center of the blue river, this curvy sprite was a body of light herself. All Rafel could do was nod like a prize puppy. Then dash right out his boots into the ionizing water after her.

Halfway in, he realized he was following a woman whose name he didn’t even know into a magical pool. But oh well, it wasn’t the first time he was nearly drowned by a hot girl. It was how he’d married his ocean goddess of a wife. Who knew what could come out of this? Rather than think on the many ways this could go wrong, he leveled his yellow lusty eyes on the faerie’s bright swinging hips.

The rustle of water on her [flora] dress.

The glistening bluish waterfalls down her spine.

Her translucent rack!

HOLY MOLLY!

"Fairest of them all, indeed."